


the race

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Eating, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hotel Sex, Humor, Kissing, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romantic Soulmates, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Set post S5 after  they save the world, Daisy and Coulson jailbreak Lola.





	the race

"Where's Lola?"

  
+++

  
It's a race.

Not against time, or the end of everything, but to get to the beginning.

Which is kind of funny, considering what they've just been through.

Now that they're home, on solid ground again, you'd think they would want to slow down, take stock of everything they've been through and what they've come back to.

Instead they're racing. Down the highway in Lola.

An hour ago, the look on his face after they'd successfully infiltrated the warehouse, with a little help from her hacker skills and a couple of faked military credentials, standing in front of a warehouse full of crates.

She used her powers to shake the wooden crate apart that held Lola, as he ran his fingers over the red paint, a mixture of affection and checking her for damage, then finding the keys, and tossing them over.

"Where?" she'd asked him, wearing a smile at the sly expression on his face. They are fugitives, after all. What's one more thing for the list? And busting out Lola just feels too good.

"Just drive."

She turns and looks at him in the passenger seat now, peeling off the fake mustache and loosening the tie, folding the jacket up and stuffing it down into the floorboard.

"I kind of liked the mustache," she teases him, and he shifts in the seat and then leans across, taking the cap off her head, letting all her hair tucked up underneath it loose, and she laughs and shakes her head, when he tosses the hat into the wind.

The waning sun feels good on her skin. She had forgotten what that felt like when they were in the future. She wants to soak every moment in.

Every precious moment, and she doesn't want to lose this momentum, she thinks, as she holds his gaze for a bit too long from behind her aviators.

"You mind if we stop at the next gas station?" she asks. "I want to change, get some snacks?"

"Of course not," he tells her, pulling the tie off the rest of the way and letting it slip out of his fingers.

She can see it floating down to the empty highway behind them in Lola's rearview.

  
+++

  
The exacto knife gets rid of the legs of the fatigues and she looks into the station's bathroom mirror before she puts on the cheap straw cowboy hat.

The heavy metal door slams shut behind her and there is Coulson leaning against Lola in the fading sunlight, his arms crossed in front of him, changed into a black t-shirt.

As she rounds Lola, she starts to laugh and then pulls an arm away from his chest so she can get a better look.

"A lottery t-shirt? Think you'll get lucky?"

"I bought a couple of scratch offs," he tells her, looking down, and fishing into his pants pocket. "Want one?"

"Trade you," she tells him, digging into the plastic shopping bag. "For these."

She holds out the pack of powdered donuts to him, and watches the smile start to spread across his face.

"Looks like I did get lucky," he says, raising his eyebrows and handing the ticket over to her. "I like the hat."

"Do I look like I actually fought off the apocalypse?"

"It's very Terminator 2," he tells her, looking at her tank top and combat boots, as he unwraps the donuts and tries to offer her one before taking a bite.

"We should keep going," she tells him. "Until we cross the border at least? I don't think the Canadians are looking for us."

He moans and then slowly swallows, closing his eyes for a moment. "Powdered sugar, one of the great unappreciated pleasures in life."

"Your turn to drive," she tells him, letting herself into the passenger seat and propping her legs up on Lola's dashboard, opening up an orange soda with a twist.

"There's a nice B&B in Ontario," he says, turning over the engine, as she leans back into the seat and then hands over the orange soda to him.

"As the car flies?" she asks with a smirk. It's their best bet to get across, if they don't want to get spotted. When the sun is down, they'll have the cover of darkness and get airborne.

He takes the bottle from her, and takes a long drink from it, as he turns back onto the highway.

  
+++

  
"And the name it should go under-" the man starts to ask them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson," she interjects, pulling away, but not quite letting go, enough to lean on the counter with an elbow as the man types it into the computer. "We have cash."

"And how did you find out about the Blue Moon?" he goes on, glancing at Lola parked outside the front.

"We just liked the name," Coulson replies. "And affordable," she adds, with a shrug, squeezing his hand. "We're kind of on a budget."

She pays cash and then waits until the room keys are slid towards them, then hey head back to Lola.

Just before they'd gone vertical, in order to get across the Canadian border, Coulson had leaned across to kiss her. His face lit faintly by Lola's headlights and his mouth still tasting like the orange soda they'd shared earlier. She remembers the jazz music playing lightly in the background.

Then he switched the lights off, and they rose into the air and raced across. He asked her if she'd ever seen Niagara Falls before. Her hair is still a little damp from the spray, she touches it as she waits for him to swipe the card through the door.

His B&B idea sounded nice, but she wanted a place they'd have to themselves, and she'd looked in the wallet and realized that their Lola jailbreak spending spree had left them low on cash until they can get to a safehouse to meet up with the team.

"We have our very own spa tub," she says, dumping the plastic bag on a mauve-colored high backed chair. "In the shape of a heart."

The rest of the room looks about what you would expect. Clean, but from another decade. A tub next to a bed must mean it's a Honeymoon suite.

"And free breakfast," he tells her as he turns around from bolting the door. "What more could you ask for?"

"This," she answers, putting her hands on his chest and then pushing him against the door to kiss him.

He drops the keys and the card in his hand to the carpet and then puts his hands on her, tossing away her hat and threading his fingers through her hair as she slips her knee between his legs and then he groans into her mouth.

"Can you believe we made it?" she says to him, brushing her lips against his cheek, against the faint scar still left there.

"When you're with me? Yes." He's looking at her closely now, that same shining in his eyes when she'd tried to stay behind.

"Yes," he repeats.

  
+++

  
In this race to get to the beginning, she knows that she can seem to be impulsive about this stuff. There's a deal she makes with herself.

Don't start something you can't lose.

To keep from getting her hopes up, so that when it falls apart, she can accept the responsibility for it and still go on.

Coulson is something that she can't imagine ever losing, and he's afraid of it, too. She knows it.

That's why it's so surprising to her that he's not his usual cautious self, that he seems to be in the same hurry she is, or he's matching her, wanting to keep up.

They make it to the bed, and she gets his t-shirt up over his head, and they laugh for a moment when it gets stuck, and his hair is mussed and it reminds her of another time when they were in Lola. When they survived a freefall together.

His body still has bruises on it from some of the fights they've been in. And there's the scar on his chest, a forever reminder of the Kree blood in his veins. She sees the exact moment where he's starting to wonder at it, how he looks at his hand.

"Hey, help me out of these?" She sits down on the bed and then stretches a legs out to him, and he takes her foot in his hands and starts to unlace the boots.

"Distracting me?" he asks with a guilty smile, looking down at the laces as he pulls them apart carefully.

She laughs at him a little, and watches him start to work through it, then sits up to arch her back and pulls her tank top over her head and drops it to the floor.

"Okay, now I'm distracted," he tells her with a shy laugh, as he gets her other boot off and then she pulls him in closer to her, their mouths meeting again, and she takes his left hand, and laces her fingers in his.

"It's part of you," she tells him, staring up at him above her. His expression makes her wonder, again, how often he feels truly seen by others, and she uses her other hand to touch his face, as he turns into her palm and kisses it.

It doesn't bother her that it all turns fast again after that. More embarrassed laughing as they fumble along trying to get the rest of their clothing off and making fools of themselves.

The discovery of the mirrored wall next to the spa tub, where they can see themselves together, their bodies intertwined for the first time. The shock of it, but also the unexpected warmth that fills her immediately.

Something she already knew. It was there all along.

Just waiting to be seen.

  
+++

  
"I think we have enough to get you a Blue Moon t-shirt," she says, sipping on her coffee as he eats his pancakes.

"Why? It's my lucky t-shirt."

The lottery shirt is peeking out from beneath her fatigues jacket, with its sleeves rolled up just enough to hide the band of his prosthetic from any onlookers.

"You need more coffee, Mrs. Johnson?" he asks, glancing down over the top of her cup as she lifts her fork to steal a bite of his pancakes. "More pancakes? More..."

He smirks at her when her eyes meet his, as she tilts her head at him, then slides her hand over his and gives his fingers a squeeze.

"Later," she answers. The dining area has some tourists in it, families, and when people started arriving she slipped on the sunglasses, just as a precaution.

Coulson isn't a public figure, but Quake still is.

She notices him start to casually check the entrances, too. There weren't that many cars in the parking lot last night. He sets his napkin down on the table.

"Are you Quake?"

The small voice is attached to a little boy, who is standing beside their table watching them with interest. Well, watching her.

"Do you know Captain America?"

"You mean, does Captain America know her?" Coulson corrects, setting his fork down with a sigh. "Kitchen door, at the nine."

She smiles at the boy and then puts her finger on Coulson's glass of juice, watching the boy's eyes widen as ripples appear across the surface.

Coulson pulls out her chair as they start to move together towards the staff entrance, the boy's eyes following them.

"Sorry kid, got to run."

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you were wondering if the Blue Moon is real....https://i.travelapi.com/hotels/7000000/6480000/6475100/6475026/6475026_8_b.jpg


End file.
